


Space Age Love Song

by Anonymous



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: (Don't Fear) The Reaper Ending (Cyberpunk 2077), Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Johnny Silverhand Being An Asshole, Light Angst, Moving On, Post-Canon Fix-It, Soft Johnny Silverhand, Soft V (Cyberpunk 2077), and then, for a little bit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29848827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The whole ordeal left V with a bullet necklace and a hole in her fucking soul. Nothing fills that hole. No amount of drugs, booze, or eddies.Johnny would complete her. Probably. Hopefully.But he’s not around anymore. V needs to understand that.(or) V’s the Queen of the Afterlife and she still feels so fucking empty.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand & V, Johnny Silverhand/Female V, Johnny Silverhand/V
Kudos: 30
Collections: Anonymous





	Space Age Love Song

**Author's Note:**

> “We were in the gold room where everyone  
> finally gets what they want, so I said What do you  
> want, sweetheart? and you said Kiss me.”

The columbarium is quiet. 

In fact, the only sounds V can pick up on are a conversation between a father and his daughter, and the murmurings of a man who is visiting his wife. 

Both of them are pitiful. 

V doesn’t come here to mourn. She comes here to _remind_ herself.

Johnny gave his life for hers two months ago. The least she could do is come on the anniversary of Mikoshi, offer up some stories.

Every time she comes, she doesn’t give up a lot. Bits and pieces, more like because.

Life after Johnny is. 

_Boring_. So fucking boring.

She’s on top of the world, queen of the Afterlife, queen of fucking _Night City_.

But she’s _bored_. There’s no one to share the glory with, not like when they slaughtered dozens of Arasaka guards by themselves. 

The sheer power she felt with Johnny by her side that day had been legendary.

Now she doesn’t feel much at all. 

Nothing matters. Not when he’s somewhere in cyberspace with Alt, slowly forgetting her.

“You would’ve loved to see me take down that cyberpsycho. Probably would’ve helped me find his daughter after. She deserved to say goodbye.”

V sighs. The cigarette in between her fingers is dying, so she throws it to the ground and stomps it out with her heel. 

“Well, Johnny,” she taps her knuckles against the niche, “See ya next month.” V mumbles, rubs the back of her neck. 

Her ears pick up a new sound. Footsteps. 

Walking straight towards her.

She wastes no time. The Malorian that she keeps tucked into the waistband of her pants at all times is brought out.

V turns towards the entrance to the columbarium, aims her sights at the figure a few feet away from her. She catches the glint of metal. They’re pointing a gun at her too.

Her breath catches when she sees who it is. 

He’s smoking a cigarette, the smoke rising up into the air and forming tiny clouds. 

He tosses it onto the floor. The heel of his black boot smashes the cigarette into ashes.

V has half the mind to shoot this – this fucking _imposter_ right now.

She readjusts her aim.

“You've gotten better at that. You're faster now.” The man says. A smirk appears on his face when he catches the sneer she throws his way.

“You’re too slow. And terrible at it.” V retorts. A gust of wind blows through the columbarium. It lifts up her brown trench coat, tussles his black hair.

Silence lulls between them. 

The small family and man who were here before have fled. She thinks she heard their footsteps scurrying away after she brought out her gun. 

She thinks she’s losing her mind. 

Because there’s no way he’s alive.

Johnny’s _dead_. For real, this time.

But he’s looking at her right now. He has that awful fucking smirk on his face, the troublesome one. The _dangerous_ one.

“How are you fucking alive?” she whispers. Her lip trembles and she is so fucking _anxious_. 

_Is that really him standing in front of her right now?_

He shrugs, puts his gun away into a holster that sits on black leather pants. He still does that shitty method, the one that makes him look like even more of a show off.

V learned it a while back. Back when she decided that the Malorian would stay by her side for the rest of her life.

His figure comes closer. The rooftop of the columbarium no longer clouds him in the shadows. Instead, the light that hangs over her head illuminates him too.

She sees his face again. For the first time in two months, she sees his stupid face. 

It’s every bit as beautiful as it was back then.

The gun she is holding to his head doesn’t get any lower. It stays pointed at him, right in between those brown eyes. 

“V.” He whispers. 

She sees the glint of his metal arm, sees it reach up to her cheek. 

His thumb rubs against it. “V, let’s leave.” He says it so firmly, like stone, that she almost doesn’t want to disagree. 

V chuckles shakily, “And go where? Do what?” She closes her eyes, focuses on the feeling of metal rubbing against her cheek.

Her grip on the Malorian loosens. Her hands shake so violently. V is sure that Johnny can feel the tears that make their way down her face, stopping at his metal hand. 

Johnny breathes out an answer. 

“Whatever we want. We don’t have to fucking stick around, V. We can be free of all this dead weight.”

She lowers her gun, and _finally_ collapses into his arms. He catches her, like he did before.

-

Two weeks later, they decide. 

They’re not sticking around.

V sends her friends a message, responds to them after months of no communication. 

A single text message that reads: _‘Thank you. He’s back, and we’re leaving NC. Thought you should know. We’ll be okay. No need to worry_.’ 

She sends each of her friends a piece of her. A memento that she hopes will remind them of her. 

Maybe she’ll even send postcards to them from the road.

Johnny packs everything into the Porsche on a July afternoon. Well, he packs all the things that absolutely need to come with them, like the dozens of weapons they stashed in the armory, and the clothes they both love too much to part with. 

They’re gonna see another ocean. A different one. 

After that, who knows? There’s a beauty in the unknown that they’ve always run away from, but not anymore. It’s time to change.

One day after Johnny comes back, V does something big. A last hurrah. 

She storms Biotechnica’s labs with Johnny by her side. They fucking _demand_ treatment, the treatment they’re advertising for Multiple Sclerosis. 

And it works. By some miracle, it works. V’s brain reconstructs itself, and the days where she wakes up with blood in her mouth become fewer. 

Instead, V wakes with Johnny by her side, who always kisses her good morning. It’s stupidly domestic, and V is so crazy, stupidly happy that she might die from the feeling of it all. 

“All set, princess?” Johnny asks her, starting the car. He looks good in the driver’s seat of their Porsche. There’s that familiar feeling in her chest, the sharpness near her heart. 

Nibbles meows from the backseat, where the cat is nestled inside the laundry basket with blankets and covers. They couldn’t give Nibbles away. 

She smiles and nods, “Yeah.” Her hands settle in her lap. The bullet necklace she gripped tightly in her sleep all those days ago, when she first got it, is now sitting pretty around Johnny’s neck.

_He looks good by her side. The feeling grows larger, overwhelming her heart. She knows what this feeling is, felt it when she was just a young girl. She hopes it never fades away._

Johnny grins, all teeth, and revs the engine.

“Then what are we fucking waiting for?


End file.
